JESSIE came over tonight after proctoring an exam. Her day was rough as is (high schoolers taking mock-SATs are not, by rule, the most congenial group), and it was compounded by the fact that she got food poisoning last night. She needed a pick-me-up after the disasters of the day, and I decided to concoct a scone recipe that would be gentle and reminiscent of a light and comforting breakfast. Since she hadn’t eaten for the entire day — a piece of bread at 2pm does not a meal make — I wanted to get something into her, and that something was a pumpkin scone.
Scones have, by now, become pretty standard fare in my breakfast arsenal. But Jessie is allergic to nuts, and so I had to eschew with the pecans I would normally have liberally sprinkled throughout the dough. Too, I’d run out of heavy cream and ended up using a heavy vanilla Greek yogurt as the dairy base. Sour cream probably would have been fine as well, but I had the yogurt on hand and I really do like it, so…
- 2 cups flour
- 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
- 6 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into cubes
- 1/2 cup pumpkin puree
- 1/3 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
- 6 tbsp brown sugar
- 1 tsp vanilla
- 1/2 cup raisins (optional)
Preheat oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In medium bowl, combine pumpkin puree, yogurt, brown sugar, vanilla. Whisk together.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and pumpkin pie spice. Add in the cubed butter and mix by hand until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. (Add in raisins if you’re choosing to include them.)
Pour flour mixture into the liquid mixture. Mix it all together with a wooden spoon. The dough should be a bit crumbly.
Turn out onto the countertop. Pat into a rough circle, large enough to cut 8 medium-sized wedges. Cut the wedges, and place each on the baking sheet so that none are touching.
Bake for 15 minutes. Cool a bit before eating, but don’t wait too long before you dig in: you definitely want these warm enough to melt butter.
Jessie, with her broken stomach and decimated appetite, ate two. Success!
* Okay, so I had the dance party and Jessie watched owlishly from her precarious perch on the kitchen counter, worried that I was going to whisk too vigorously and splatter her with batter. In my defense, the worst I did was fling batter onto my own arm. And that was only because I pulled an especially sassy move, which Jessie (also in my defense) appreciated. Aretha, queen bee, you inspire!